


Unthankful

by Kalzul



Series: Sanders Sides Stories [6]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Crying, Depressed Virgil, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, major angst, self-hate, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalzul/pseuds/Kalzul
Summary: What right does he have? What has he done for his deservance? Nothing, therefore it's not there. He has no right, he has no deservance and all-in-all, he has no will to live any longer.





	Unthankful

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Human Sides au teenage Virgil who is depressed, anxious and semi-suicidal.
> 
> Major Trigger Warning: Self-Harm.  
> Trigger Warning: Self-Hate, Suicide Mention.

Virgil sat in the bathroom, door locked and curtains drawn closed. His body vigorously trembled, twitching violently every now and then. His hands harshly gripped his hair at the roots and his eyes were wide and unseeing, lost in the oblivion of his own thoughts. The cuts on his thighs and torso buzzed with a warmth that merely acted as a tether to reality. Despite his mostly unmoving nature on the outside, his heart pounded in his ears and he didn’t think he’d be able to hear anything else if he tried. Worst of all, his mind wouldn’t stop shouting at him!

For hours now, his train of thought hadn’t differed in any way and he knew it wouldn’t for a long while going forward. His lip was bleeding down his chin from biting it raw, he held in his hands fistfuls of hair he’d torn from his scalp and he couldn’t feel his hands or his toes. If he was honest, Virgil had no idea why his hands and feet had gone numb from a mysterious cold. The bathroom was a warmer temperature so it made no sense for any parts of him to be frozen.  _Maybe it’s the cold from my heart and mind, seeping through my body,_ he playfully thought to himself, remaining unable to smirk on the outside. Virgil just wanted a distraction, however brief it may be.

The playful moment passed quickly, almost as though it hadn’t even been there. He honestly thought it hadn’t. Tears poured free from his eyes, it surprised Virgil how much he could cry. He’d been like this for hours now, maybe a day, unmoved from his spot. More tears seeped out as he flinched violently, dark thoughts coming back for round three hundred and forty-five. For the first time in hours, Virgil moved. He moved his left hand from his hair and reached down to the ground next to him to grab his shiny weapon. With very shaky hands, he held it up to his thigh and made several more cuts. Relief washed over him for a brief moment, a shaky but soft sigh slipping through his slightly parted lips.

However, the slow, calculated movements of him slicing the skin of his thigh became less calculated and more violent and harsh when he remembered why he was cutting himself.  _You’re cutting yourself because you’re that privileged, able-bodied white kid who has the audacity to feel sad and depressed._ His hand twitched mid-cut, causing his hand to slip and for him to go a little deeper than previously intended. Blood dotted along the cut, some places dripping down the expanse of his thigh and onto the tile floor.

This caused him to smile, not a big, happy smile, not by any means, but rather a sardonic smile. Virgil acknowledged that he’d cut deeper than intended, and while he wouldn’t do it again, it had felt nice. His smile slipped into a frown in an instant and he got back to cutting, faster this time.  _You’re so spoiled, a brat. You have everything set for you and you still feel sad?! How pathetic, how absolutely revolting. And to think that more times than not, you’ve actually contemplated suicide! You spoiled waste, you greedy, self-obsessed piece of trash, how **dare** you. _Tears came faster now, completely obscuring his vision.

The razor fell from his fingers and his hand found its way back to his thick hair, pulling harder than before. His dark thoughts, however, hadn’t noticed the change, they just kept coming, harsh as ever.  _Honestly! What loser has the audacity to want death in this day and age? You worthless thing, you have been supplied a sturdy roof over your head, a warm place to sleep at night, delicious food on the table and comfortable clothes on your back._ None of this is new information, however, he’s made it clear that he knows all these things…hence the reason he has his razor and sixty-one fresh scars littering his right thigh.

 _There are children your age who would literally murder, **kill** to be in the place you are right now because they have none of these things and yet you want to die? Talk about ungrateful! _He began biting his lip again, hating the way the metallic taste spread across his tongue but needing pain all the same. His hands were too shaky and twitchy to cut so why not bite?  _You’re pathetic and you know it, nothing anyone says will ever mean otherwise. You’re unlovable, honestly, who would want to accompany an ungrateful, unthankful, disgraceful human scum such as yourself?_ Virgil let a sob erupt from his throat, only one before quieting himself again.

What right did he harbour to be allowed to feel this way? None, he doesn’t deserve to feel this way, he has nothing wrong with his life. Sure, rude comments are made at school every now and again but that isn’t something uncommon and it didn’t mean he was allowed to feel this way. After 45 minutes more of this pain, self-torture, hair loss and blood loss and more, his emotions began to clear up, leaving him his usual hollow shell. He stood and turned on the shower, needing to clean the wounds to avoid infection.

Virgil may be a cutter but he’s a cutter who has some training in first aid and self-care. There was something oddly satisfying about the excess blood running with the water down his leg and into the drain. When he stepped out of the shower, he sat in his boxers for a while, waiting for the cuts to scab over. He slipped on his jogging pants and oversized hoodie and stepped out of the bathroom, face completely void of emotion. This is how it was and this is how it’d stay, he  _deserved_ this.

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay safe kiddos


End file.
